In a Matter of Circumstance
by WhiteMage103
Summary: During closing time at Moe's, two unexpected people share a few drinks and stories to an equally lonely bartender.
1. Chapter 1

"On the streets of Springfield USA, love is in the polluted air. Valentine's Day has struck the hearts of Springfieldians and into their wallets. As we can see from our sky cam, millions of couples are already making lovey dovey all the way to their homies. Candies and cards are reaching their heights since the Christmas rush two months ago. My, my, I feel sorry for the pathetic civilians who have no one to look forward to when they get home. This is Kent Brockman saying, I am leaving the rest of the news to-"

__

Click!

"Hey, hey kiddies! Krusty the Clown here to say go out and bother your parents in their bedrooms for the experience of your life, cause I'm going out with this scorching, hot-"

__

Click!

"Valentine's day Special! Fill your love with-"

__

Click!

"Love!"

__

Click!

"Valentine's Day!"

__

Click! _Click_! _Click_!

Moe Szylack clicked the remote again to the dirty, rusty television. The screen hissed and crackled with static as the connection was lost. He groaned with irritation as he pressed the buttons harder trying to find a decent station. Suddenly, the button became stuck under the pressure and the channel continued to rattle and fuzz with static.

"Damn cheap remote!" he yelled and threw the broken object to the opposite wall.

It rocketed and made impact with the moldy bit of drywall and shattered in a mess of electronic winnow. Moe groaned again and ran his rag over the counter in an enclosed rage. He grumbled and hissed curse words under his breath.

"Damn people, they never want a drink until after Valentine's Day. What the hell is wrong with them? Does anyone in this town have no dates?" he hissed.

Anyone except for him, he wanted to add. Even though he was the ugliest man in town, you'd think there was somebody out there who would appreciate him for his work. But no! No one did. No one gave a damn about Moe Szylack. Moe grumbled as he retrieved a dusty broom and began sweeping up his mess. He must have been bored out of his mind to actually clean a small accident like this. The health inspector wasn't due in weeks and well… who was coming anyway?

Moe placed the broom back in its corner, where the outline could be seen from years of under use. Suddenly, from the motion he made, a piece of paper fell from the shelf. It fluttered down like a weak, graceful butterfly and landed on his black, curly hair. Moe felt it land and reached up with his angry hands.

"What's this, some stupid- no- good- sheet- of-" he growled.

He pulled it down and his mean expression melted away. It was a photograph. No, not just a photograph, but a picture of a doll-faced angel. He chuckled when he remembered where this was taken at. They had so much fun that day in Springfield Park. She had been a perfect little angel the whole day and he was more than joyous to baby- sit her. They had ice cream, played in the jungle gym, and other fun activities to pass the time. Moe couldn't have been on cloud nine; he was living on it! Unfortunately, the bright, sunny day became cloudy as her bumbling father came up and took the poor thing away for "bonding." It was unfair, but what place was he to argue. She wasn't his kid, but she may as well be.

Moe had a nerve to tickle her until that signature red pacifier fell from her mouth in a fits of laughs. He suddenly felt his eyes begin to water from the emotions swelling inside of him. He usually blamed an irritating substance stuck inside his eye, but this was an exception in private. damn, life wasn't fair.

"D'aw I wished I could see that kid again," he told himself and placed it into his breast pocket.

* * *

School had let out over three hours ago, but Principle Seymour Skinner still roamed the empty hallways like a sleek and clean predator. Each turn was met with more loneliness and cold air of the February weather. Broken valentines and red and pink hearts floated along the hallways from the celebrations that took place today. Streamers and wrappers littered the floor and dried candy stuck to the wall like glue. No doubt the thorn in his side, Bart Simpson, had done this dirty deed. He muttered to himself and continued down the next hallway which was a bit cleaner than the next.

Boy, Groundskeeper Willie would have a field day this year!

He finally gave a mental approval and left to the warmer corridor where his office dwelled. Outside the office stood the Scottish janitor, emptying the waste baskets into the larger dumpster. Skinner sighed heavily and decided to perk up a conversation with Groundskeeper Willie. After all, what was better than no company at all?

"Hello Willie. It seems you are taking well care of our paper disposing," Skinner told the man.

"Aye, Ol' Willie got this place in tip top shape for the kiddies," Groundskeepers Willie announced proudly and practically threw the basket in its place.

_This is useless,_ Skinner thought. Why did he even try? He nodded and started for his office when he decided to try again with a conversation_._

"So, how are you this Valentine's Day? Have any special plans?"

"Aye, me favorite show comes on tonight! I can't miss it. I'm also opening me special scotch for the occasion. And you?" the janitor asked enthusiastically

Skinner thought long and hard about that question. The truth was no, unless a worthwhile night was filled with caring for a nagging mother and watching television while she did so. He used to look forward to Valentine's Day outings for the past five years, with his only true love. Unfortunately, she was on a date with someone as he stood there. He had the looks, personality, and job that every woman could love. "Mama's Boy" was not a trait highly desired in this society.

Skinner just shook the thought away and smiled weakly at Willie.

"No, I'm just going around town and find a pleasant woman. Have a wonderful night, um, doing what you do," Skinner hid his sadness with lies.

"Alrighty, same to you Principle Skinner. Now off to the first graders hallway, a kid was throwin' up there after eating the candy with the card still in it." With that Groundskeeper Willie pulled the dumpster and the wheels squeaked with every turn they made.

Skinner sighed again and walked inside the still lit office. He walked quietly past his desk where all the accessories were neatly placed for easy access. The order of the office would make any "neat freak" be proud: disciplinary folders in alphabetical order in the correct cabinets, desk shining from cleaner, and books lining the shelf in a neat line. Skinner smiled, proud of his work, and came to the chair, where his winter coat hung loosely from the swiveled chair. His proud grin then dropped to a solitary frown. His office may be neat and tidy, but his mind was a mess. He craved something. Something to take his mind away from the haunting Valentine's Day and lost love.

"I need a drink," Skinner replied in a gloomy tone.

He slowly exited from the office, with his coat in hand. Before he left, he flickered the switch off and the office became dark once again, for the night. Skinner locked the door and made his way out of the school to the nearest bit of alcohol he could acquire.

* * *

"Ah it's six o' clock. Smithers, I wish to return to my manor now," Mr. C. Montgomery Burns replied as the aging grandfather clock chimed.

"Yes, sir. It is becoming rather late," his assistant answered.

Waylon Smithers helped the old man from the leather chair and retrieved all that the richest man in Springfield would need. The two men walked outside of the high executive's office and after Smithers locked the door, they made their way down the power plant's long hallways.

"How long has it been now, Smithers?" Mr. Burns asked the younger man with a casual tone.

"How long for what, sir?" Smithers looked at him with a perplexed look.

"Since you had a lady-friend. My boy, after you had divorced that foul woman, you hadn't been in one's company."

Smithers felt his heart drop. True, it had been almost ten years since he was married, but it was necessary. Sometimes he thought why he even married her. All she cared about was herself and the attention she had from the money he was paid. He no longer wanted anything to do with her after a furious outrage she caused over his devotion to boss and mentor. Ever since, he was no longer interested in the female society. It sickened him to the core whenever a woman would seduce him, but even more so when his employer would try and search for a companion. Alas, the younger man had to lie about his thoughts to secure his secret.

"I haven't met one that enraptured me, sir."

"Well, I suggest that tonight is a night to live it up. After all, what is a better night than this? Hmmm?" Mr. Burns lightly pushed the issue.

To Smithers, that was a terribly bad idea. He already said that his previous wife was his last, but the old man was making his thoughts twisted. He had only one true love and that was…

"Smithers, are you listening to me?" Mr. Burns interrupted his thoughts.

"Oh, um, yes sir and this is a good night for the love struck to seek their mates," Smithers hid the thoughts away with the comment and a few nervous laughs.

"That's the spirit, my boy. As soon as you drive me home, you can begin your quest, eh?" the weak old man gave a soft elbow nudge to Smithers's side.

Smithers chuckled and pressed the elevator button down. The metallic door opened with a sing-song dong and the two men walked inside. As the elevator started heading down, the irritating music started ringing through the enclosed space. Mr. Burns impatiently tapped his foot on the floor which made Smithers a tad nervous. Suddenly, Burns's nasal voice broke the musical silence.

"Smithers, tomorrow I want this infernal melody replaced with something more amusing."

"Right away sir," Smithers told him in his formal tone as the elevator continued to drop levels.

Thirty minutes later, the dark, purple limo coasted to a stop in front of the well-kept lawns of Burns Manor. Smithers pulled the shifter to park and opened his door. Immediately after his exit, Smithers opened the driver's side back door and allowed Mr. Burns to leave the car. The old frail man struggled to exit the car. His assistant smiled and lent his yellow hand to him. Mr. Burns looked through the glasses of Smithers and grabbed the hand with his old, wrinkled one. Smithers could have sworn his heart lept from his chest. He pulled Mr. Burns from the car gingerly and helped the old man to his feet. Smithers then ushered the old man to his door until Burns suddenly stopped.

"What is it sir? Is something wrong?" Smithers hurried with his worried tone.

"No Smithers, I am fine here. I don't need you to walk me everywhere I wish to be. Go off to your home and enjoy your holiday."

"But, sir! I-"

"Tut, tut, no Smithers. I am not a baby. Now as your employer, I say take the night off!"

Smithers's mouth almost dropped from the old man's requests. He pushed his rounded glasses into place and nodded. This was still a bad idea, but if Burns insisted.

"Yes, sir."

Smithers felt as if he wasn't needed. Having to be wanted by Mr. Burns, meant Smithers had something to live for. The younger man left his head to fall as he walked to his own car parked next to the limo.

"Oh and Smithers!"

He turned his head with hope gleaming in his eyes. "Yes, sir?"

"Could you please open the door for me?"

* * *

**Author Notes: **This was created after a dare. I wondered what if those three lonely guys were to meet up and get drunk. I am still doing Nobody, but I'm doing this too. I know some of these aren't really canon or they seem OOC, but this is my first Simpsons fanfiction. Sorry!

Simpsons Character do not belong to me.


	2. Chapter 2

principal Skinner walked down the streets of Springfield. Every once in a while, a couple would cross his path with wide, loving eyes and suggestive movements. He smiled for a second, thinking how he used to be young and filled with undying love. His face dropped again. Used to… That's what he is now. He USED TO have a girlfriend. He USED TO have a fiancée. He had a love-life, but it was crushed under the weight of his mother's tyranny and nagging.

Skinner wondered if Norman Bates had the same problem with his mother…

Skinner turned the corner where he suddenly tripped onto the sidewalk! He yelled as he clumsily fell on his stomach. After groaning, he looked forward to a pair of blue and pink tennis shoes. He looked farther up to see the small sneakers belonged to one of his own students and one of the last people he wanted to see. Nelson Muntz smiled his evil smirk down at the man and pointed a finger.

"Hah-ha!" he laughed and hurriedly ran away, leaving a cloud of dust behind.

Skinner abruptly stood up with a furious rage.

"That's detention tomorrow, Muntz!" but it was too late. The bully was far from sight.

Skinner sighed when the building next to him caught his eye. It was an old building consisting of pinkish bricks and maroon timber built in a tilting position. Red and green stained glass windows produced some form of light from the building, but they were so dirty, none could look inside. In neon green and red lights, read the words: MOE'S. He had heard of this place from some of the teachers who were notorious drunkards.

Obviously, this was a bar. That's the place Skinner needed to be, alright. He needed an old fashioned bottle of Duff. Skinner straightened himself and brushed the dirt from his suit. He grabbed the bronze door knob of the purple door and pushed it in.

"Hello? Anyone here?" he called inside the dank bar.

Empty. Absolutely empty. The usual drunks weren't there and dim lights flickered every once in a while. Skinner carefully approached the counter and sat down on a squeaky bar stool. Suddenly, he heard a small noise from the other side. Skinner felt the urge of curiosity creep upon him as he carefully looked over.

Just then a man jumped up from the backside of the counter, nearly giving Skinner a heart attack. He was somewhat grotesque with a furrowed brow and a sneer that could make Fat Tony scared. His dark curly hair bounced with the sudden movement.

"Hey, we're closing! You here to buy something or what?" the bartender replied harshly.

Skinner threw and angry look at Moe. "As a customer, I have come here to purchase something from your tavern, but I'm afraid, that with that behavior, I'll leave."

Instantly, Moe's face lit up like a candle and grabbed a pad and pencil. He smiled in his unusual way as he nearly jumped from the customer.

"Welcome to Moe's Tavern! Home of the… uh… World's Squeakiest Bar Stools. What do you want?" Moe replied a bit too enthusiastically.

Skinner almost fell out of his seat, but remained calm. This bartender obviously didn't have many customers and he seemed to be desperate. The principal regained his composure and placed his arm on the table.

"I guess I want a Duff beer, please," Skinner told him with uncertainty in his voice.

Moe raised his eyebrow as he search the man with his eyes.

"First time here, huh?"

"I beg your pardon," Skinner looked at him with disbelief.

"Yep, you's new in this bar. I never seen your face here before. So a Duff, eh? It'll be here in a tick," Moe replied and pulled a glass mug from the shelf.

He cleaned it with a dirty rag and placed it on the table. Moe then grabbed a nozzle from below the counter labeled: Duff Beer. With a short whish! The mug was filled with cool, tap beer and it was pushed to Skinner.

"Fresh from the tap, heh heh," Moe tried to lighten the atmosphere.

Skinner took a small sip. Bleh! Disgusting! He never consumed something so bland and distasteful. No wonder his mother forbade alcohol. But the sad hopeful look on Moe's face urged him to drink it again. Skinner took another sip and it started tasting a bit better.

Suddenly, the door opened again and all attention was brought upon the man who entered. He looked tired and a tad depressed with his blue eyes drooped behind his glasses. The man practically threw himself down on the bar stool and held his head. He ran his yellow fingers through his graying hair from anxiety. The man then twiddled his fingers through the purple twists of his bow tie, desperate to take it off. Moe walked up to him and brought out his pad.

"What'll be?"

"Just give me a shot of cheap scotch," murmured Waylon Smithers.

Moe shrugged to himself and brought down some old shot glasses. Skinner just looked at Smithers. He knew him from somewhere, but where? He looked familiar. Maybe it was just the alcohol impairing his senses. Moe set a shot glass in front of Smithers, who was rubbing his temples to suppress the painful headache in his skull. Skinner watched as he gulped down the glass in a mere second. Surprisingly, Moe just filled the glass again and the man gulped that down too. Apparently, he needed some kind of escape from the Valentine's day blues. Skinner tried to make a conversation with him.

"So do you work around here?" he asked Smithers.

"At the power plant and you're the principal of Springfield Elementary," he grumbled and took a smaller sip.

Skinner finally realized who he was. The trademark green jacket, the purple bow tie, and the glasses made him think back a long time ago. Long ago, after oil was found in the school, Montgomery Burns took all their oil for profit and then turned around to block the sun for his own greedy need. He robbed the school, this very tavern, and the retirement home from staying in business. That's when the whole town ran into grudges and aimed their guns at Mr. Burns. This man was a prime suspect for the first few days, maybe even the real attempt-murderer. After all he was fired and wasted to alcohol.

"You're that Smithers fellow. You're that one they thought killed Mr. Burns," Skinner finally.

"Yeah that's me," he softly replied.

Smithers pushed his askew glasses back into place. He hoped to drink in peace. Now wasn't too late to leave. He could pay the tab right now and go to the privacy of his own home. That is probably the most sensible thing to do this whole night, Smithers thought as he took a small sip from the glass.

"What is a respectable man like you doing in a tavern like this?" Skinner asked him.

"Hey, what's wrong with this bar?" Moe intervened.

"Um, nothing Moe. It's just you wouldn't expect a person of high society here."

Smithers chuckled at the man's comment which gathered the attention of Skinner and Moe. High Society, that wasn't Smithers at all. He didn't live in a nice fancy mansion, but instead, an apartment in south Springfield. His telephone number was separate from the wealthy. The only key to be welcome at these parties was the fact that his employer and self-proclaimed best friend was the richest man in Springfield, maybe even beyond its borders.

"'Person of high society,' I believe a principal is higher than I am on the employment level."

"Of an Elementary school? The high school has greater funds than the elementary school," he told Smithers. "No, the educational root of high society is taken by… Superintendant Chalmers," Skinner replied with a slight groan at the name.

Moe refilled their glasses and stood back. This wasn't his crowd to be associating with. His crowd wasn't there; they were probably on dates. Moe chuckled to himself; he couldn't see the crude, corpulent, and drunkard Barney Gumble hooking himself up with a hot chick. Maybe he did get lucky…

"So why are you two here anyway? Isn't it against the…uh….school thingies to get drunk the night before a school day?" Moe tried to sound somewhat smart for these two men.

"My teachers and faculty have been getting drunk during school hours; this is nothing compared to them. I am just here to drink the night away," Skinner replied.

"Really? And what about you four-eyes?"

Smithers didn't really have an excuse for being here. He should be at home getting work done. Instead he is drowning his problems away like Homer Simpson. Smithers shuddered at the thought of ever being compared to that incompetent bottomless pit. He turned away with his glass, not facing Skinner or Moe.

"I'd rather not talk about it," he solemnly said and took a long drink.

"C'mon, you're in good company. Who we going to tell anyway who isn't too drunk to understand?" Moe pushed him

Smithers felt his head numb from the alcohol. He started getting that sensation he felt when consuming too much alcohol. Unlike Homer Simpson, Smithers didn't have a large alcohol tolerance and five glasses of hard liquor did not help this case. Soon he found himself saying things he wouldn't normally say…

"I have problems with my boss, okay? I feel underappreciated no matter what the hell I do. I stay at his side and no matter how much work I do for that man, he…he…"

Smithers stopped this as much will as the alcohol didn't consume. Moe and Skinner just stared at him after the outburst. So, they were getting underneath his skin and getting him to open up some. Moe poured another glass with a sly grin on his face. Unconsciously, Smithers took a half a glass gulp and almost broke the glass as he slammed it down from anger.

"He what Smithers?" Skinner asked to encourage him.

"He…he doesn't," Smithers took a deep breathe, "Love me back."

Even though he whispered the last bit, Moe and Skinner heard it. Moe almost dropped his glass from surprise. Skinner's mouth must have dropped forty feet! Moe had to close his mouth to keep from laughing like a donkey. Smithers took another drink and felt like just dying there on the spot. Instead he just stared off into never land.

"Do you have a story to tell us, Smithers? Anything you'd like to share?" Skinner asked shooting glares at Moe who was still trying not to laugh.

Smithers sighed and took off his glasses. He wiped his eyes then slid the glasses back on. He turned around with a defeated look on his face and let out another sigh.

"Only if you promise not to repeat this information to anyone else. I'm serious."

The other two promised as Moe refilled Skinners glass. Smithers thought about a good place to start. He could begin anywhere; anyplace in his memories were filled with unrequited love for Mr. Burns. He may as well start from the very beginning; the time he remembered his boss the earliest…

Springfield 1965…

* * *

**Author Notes: **Okay, the Simpsons have a weird timeline so I created the best year possible for the episode Blunder Years. If Homer was claimed to be 36 in 1989 then subtract that and you get he was born in 1953, so add twelve years, from when he was born, you get 1965. That is also the time when Smithers was a baby which just confuses me because he is supposed to be the same age as Homer and the other adults we know and love.

Also, I hope no Homer fans get offensed by me descibing Homer. It's from Smithers's perspective and that's how he sees Homer. Sorry!

Thank you, I hope that solved some cases. Review please!


	3. Chapter 3

_Montgomery Burns stood outside a heated chamber noticing the vibrant buttons blinking and the sirens buzzing through the metal room. He scratched at his gray hair, trying to find a reason for this event. All these complicated dials and arrows spinning uncontrollably were alien to his elderly mind. Even though he owned this plant, he didn't know what was wrong. After all, it had just finished construction almost five months ago. Burns didn't know what was going on. He didn't know there was trouble afoot but something told him there were just a few necessary procedures and the infernal blasts would stop. At least, that's what the fellow with the charts and manuals told him. Burns knew it would be easy; all it took was some knowledge of the situation._

"Smithers! Get in here!" Burns called, "Smithers!" .

As quickly as it was said, a man entered the room with a squirming bundle in his arms. His glasses reflected the blinking lights and his moustache twitched with every breath he took.

"I'm sorry Monty. I was just feeding Waylon Jr. here," Smithers Sr. replied.

"Smithers put that baby down. Something is wrong with the reactor!" the older man hastily pointed to the sealed door.

Both of the men and the baby looked in through the circular window. Energy blast shot out like lightening bolts. The sirens blasted louder and faster as a cloudy haze appeared in the room. This worried Smithers Sr. He had been working in this plant since it opened and had the knowledge to find out what was wrong.

"I'll take a look in there," he replied.

The man carefully placed the baby in Mr. Burns' arms and began twisting the wheel to open the door. Heat slipped through the door and into the main room. Burns backed away slightly from the opening to give Smithers some room. Smithers opened the door slightly, when suddenly Burns grabbed his jacket sleeve.

"Smithers Sr. wait, that room could have atoms, and steam, and other nuclear brick-brack," Burns warned him with a worried look on his slightly wrinkled face.

"But if this reactor blows, the whole town will be in danger," he replied and looked down at his innocent baby boy, "including my son."

With that, Smithers Sr. walked bravely into the reactor room. Burns quickly shut the door behind him, so no radiation could escape and contaminate both him and the baby. Burns just stood there, in an awkward silence. Suddenly, he heard a sound. He looked down to see the baby boy gurgling. Burns didn't have experience nor tolerance for children; the baby was like an Martian to the man. He tried to break the silence with something to ease his own worries of the reactor.

"So, you're a baby, eh?" he asked the little boy, "How's that working for you?"

Suddenly, the buzzers and sirens stopped. The lights and gauges on the machine stopped blinking and moving in chaotic movements. Things were quiet for a split second, when suddenly the clear light above them blink on with a ding!

"He did it!" Burns happily announced.

Burns stood in front of the window and watch Smithers step away from the main control of the reactor. The baby began to squirm and point to the window at his daddy. Burns smiled slightly and held the baby up so he could get a better look.

"Look at your heroic daddy," he showed the baby," Look at him making funny faces, shedding his hair, rolling on the floor…lying…perfectly…still."

Because of radiation poisoning, Waylon Smithers Sr. died while trying to save Springfield and his only son from certain destruction. Burns pulled the baby from the window and away from possible traumatic memories. Burns looked at the baby, so naïve and innocent, who know had no father to teach him about life. No baseball games, no father-son talks, no nothing!

"Oh, dear," Burns replied as he looked down at the child.

Suddenly, as if on instinct, the baby reached up with his tiny, pudgy hands and affectionately grabbed Burns' long crooked nose. Burns didn't know what to think. He would have to do something. This child was the son of his long-time friend and co-worker, maybe he would provide something for him and his widowed mother.

Little did he know that this baby was going to grow up to be his most devoted employee, excellent caregiver, and… secret admirer.

"Sir," baby Waylon cooed which made Burns give another wry smile.

* * *

"And that's the first time I can remember being in the presence of Mr. Burns," the present day Smithers replied.

Moe and Skinner looked sadly at the young man. They all had their same thoughts since neither of them had a father as well: one had died a gruesome death in a parade and the other was an anonymous occupant of a freak show. They guessed that weren't so different after all.

Suddenly, Moe remembered something. He remembered a long time ago something had happened around the same time. But what was it? He remembered screaming and mud, but what else? Then the idea struck him like a snowball.

"That body in the quarry! That was your pop wasn't it?" Moe asked.

"You mean the dry bones that Homer Simpson and his family found, thus ending a mystery, yes," Smithers told him and took another drink. "I was told the truth after Mr. Burns told them and Chief Wiggum through a surveillance tape."

"Damn, I almost had the mystery figured out, too."

Skinner and Smithers chuckled. Skinner undid his jacket and his own tie and kindly took both his and Smithers' coat and put them on a hanger by the door. The alcohol was impairing his vision and it became hard to walk in a straight line. Imagine a high standing man practically falling over by the weight of beer. Skinner gripped the handle before making his way cautiously to the barstool. Moe just laughed at the man's feeble attempts to walk. Suddenly, the telephone rang. Moe picked it up casually and held it to his ears.

"Moe's Tavern, home of the world's cleanest dirty glasses," he called into the speaker.

A high-pitched voice answered, "Yeah, I'm looking for Gaiman. First initial A."

"Yeah, hang on a second," Moe covered his hand over the speaker and turned to the men across from him.

"Do any of you guys know A. Gaiman? I'm looking for A. Gaiman."

Suddenly, Smithers hid his face in his hands. Were the fates testing him now? Whatever they were planning, it was a cheap idiotic way of doing it. He turned away with an angry look on his face. Skinner noticed the punch line and motioned Moe to turn the phone off. Moe caught the message and yelled into the phone.

"Listen you!" he barked. "When I find you, I'm going to shove a stick up your butt and make you a puppet that'll tell real jokes!"

When he slammed the phone, miles away, Bart Simpson laughed aloud with his sisters Lisa and Maggie.

Moe turned to Smithers with an apologetic look on his face. Sure they figured out before the call that he was a homosexual, but who likes being pointed out like that? Smithers still had his face turned away and he picked up his glass of scotch. He gulped it down in a mere five seconds, maybe less.

"Listen, bub, I get those kinds of calls all the time. We usually forget them after a few glasses, so, uh, cheer up," Moe tried to cheer the angered man.

"There are worse pranks out there. Like from the thorn in my side, Bart Simpson," Skinner replied.

Moe turned to Skinner with an eye brow raised.

"Bart? He's the best out there! I knew him since he was a baby and he is the best prankster I've ever known."

Skinner gave an annoyed look at Moe. Bart Simpson has been a menace to Skinner's life since the boy first entered it: pranks, big caboosed balloon of the principal and rude comments and gestures that would expel any student forever. It all began with "Eat my shorts!" Fortunately, there were those few times when the little demon would actually be decent around Skinner, such as when he lost his job. There was one time that stood out that Skinner was thankful for, but I didn't work out as planned.

"Simpson had his good moments, I'll admit, but this is one I could never forget. Do you men know an Edna Krabapple?" Skinner asked.

"Hell yeah I do, she was my first girlfriend." Moe made a growl that made Smithers chuckle at.

"Well, there was this one time I could remember where Bart Simpson tried to bring us together again after an embarrassing cancellation of our marriage…"

* * *

**Author Notes: **Sorry for the short chapter folks I'll try to get a bigger chapter next. And for those that might get offended by "A. Gaiman," I'm really sorry.

The part in italics is from flashback part of the episode Blunder Years. There will be more stories shared so don't worry.


End file.
